


he loves me, he loves me not

by Tazmaster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Steve's Pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazmaster/pseuds/Tazmaster
Summary: When Sam sits down at the table with him, joined by a bowl of cereal, Bucky’s bedroom door swings open. He walks into the room, hair dripping wet, with a towel slung around his shoulders. Steve sees his eyes linger over the flowers first.“Where’d these flowers come from?” He asks, gesturing to the vase on the table. Steve and Sam both shrug, too exhausted to really care. Then Bucky asks a strange question, “Do... you guys like them?” He plays with the towel around his neck.He phrases it like it’s meant for Steve too, but Bucky is looking at Sam when he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.





	he loves me, he loves me not

It starts with the flowers.

Steve notices the small vase of roses sitting on table during breakfast. They were beautiful, which made them stick out like a sore thumb in comparison to the rest of the room. He chews on his granola as he carefully pulls them back to look. No note. Huh.

Maybe Nat dropped by and decided to liven the place up, he thinks. Whenever she came over to the house, she’d complain about the age. 

“I’m sure this house is older than you, Rogers.” Nat had said, walking into their house for the first time. 

Steve doesn’t mind it, makes the house feel more lived in.

Sam comes trotting through the dining room into the kitchen. Simple t-shirt and briefs, with sleep plastered on his face. He gives Steve a small nod before slipping through the doorway. 

Sam seems like a flower kinda guy.

“Sam,” Steve calls out to him in the kitchen. “Did you buy these?” He hears the fridge close and Sam pokes his head into the room.

“The flowers? Nah, man. My guess is Nat probably.” 

So the final consensus is Nat. Steve would have to remember to thank her later.

When Sam sits down at the table with him, joined by a bowl of cereal, Bucky’s bedroom door swings open. He walks into the room, hair dripping wet, with a towel slung around his shoulders. Steve sees his eyes linger over the flowers first. 

“Where’d these flowers come from?” He asks, gesturing to the vase on the table. Steve and Sam both shrug, too exhausted to really care. Then Bucky asks a strange question, “Do... you guys like them?” He plays with the towel around his neck.

He phrases it like it’s meant for Steve too, but Bucky is looking at Sam when he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

Sam doesn’t see it and teases, “Yeah, it’s nice to have something living in here other than me.” 

There’s a shadow of a smile on Bucky’s lips before he drops his hand and goes into the kitchen. Steve takes a look at the roses again, reaching out to feel their soft petals.

Guess he’ll be thanking Bucky instead.

-

After that, there’s new flowers in the dining room whenever the old ones die. Bucky gets adventurous after the second bouquet of roses, which Steve appreciates. His favorites were the tiger lillies, which admittedly were because they reminded him of Tony. He thinks he would sneak one out of the vase for him if they were still on talking terms.

Sam takes a liking to the white chrysanthemums, because Steve walks in on him sitting at the table, admiring them before bed.

“I like this little addition to the house,” Sam tells Steve while he’s sifting through the fridge. “My mom has a garden back at her house, it’s her pride and joy.”

Steve remembers the time his mom tried to grow small plants in their shabby Brooklyn apartment. He thought she was a bit of a black thumb at the time, but now Steve was sure if she actually had time to take care of them, she would’ve been great.

“You know he gets them for you, right?” Steve says after he finds the last water bottle. He closes the fridge and joins Sam in the dining room, where he’s wearing a familiar confused expression.

“What do you mean? I never said anything about-”

“That’s the thing with Buck,” Steve starts, taking a seat across from Sam. “You don’t have to say anything, he just…does it. He’s thoughtful like that.” He smiles to himself for a moment and thinks about all the times Bucky took care of him when he was younger. Too sick to talk or too bruised to pick himself up and Bucky would be there offering his shoulder to lean on.

“When I was bedridden, Bucky used to bring me books,” Sam looks at him a bit surprised. “I never asked him why, but I think it comforted him knowing something was keeping me company while he was away.”

Sam’s expression turns soft and his eyes move to look at the chrysanthemums again. He studies them like a piece of art and lets out a low ‘hm’.

“People used to swoon over him all the time, you know,” Steve gets up from his chair and heads for his room. Before he leaves, he mentions, “Used to buy flowers for the pretty ones.”

-

Sometimes, Bucky gets into fits. Sometimes angry fits but most of the time, it involves a lot of sulking. Steve hates them, because he knows Bucky is the only one that can pull himself out of them. 

On days like these, Bucky gets up in the middle of the night and sleeps on the couch. Steve understands, remembering how hard it was for him to sleep on a bed that wasn’t rock hard or had springs poking out of it.

He gets Bucky coffee that morning (absurd amount of cream and sugar) and sets it on the table in the living room. Bucky’s journals are spread out over the surface, so he has to scoot some of them over. He lifts his legs up as Steve sits down on the couch next to him.

After a few minutes of watching TV, Steve says, “You know you can talk to me, Buck.”

“I know.”

Steve wants to press, but doesn’t. Instead, he wonders again how much of the old Bucky is left among the new. The Bucky that he remembered so vividly when the Winter Soldier looked him in the eyes. It wasn’t that Bucky was gone, he was sitting right there next to him, but he wasn’t the same either. 

Steve glances at the journals on the table. 

Bucky never journaled during the war, as he was very much a in-the-moment person. If he kept something, it meant a lot to him. So, Steve thinks to ask what he’s been filling those journals with for the past few months. Documenting his day? Thoughts and feelings? Things he has to catch up on? Steve wasn’t sure.

Part of him wishes that Bucky would talk to him instead of writing it all down where he’d never see it. Steve gets it, he really does, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He wishes they would talk like they used to, late night conversations just about anything. Bucky obviously had a lot on his mind, but he’ll come to Steve when he was ready. 

He hopes he will anyway.

-

Bucky comes into Steve’s room one night as he’s reading a small art book about John Singer Sargent.

He doesn’t say anything when he comes in, just walks over to the bed and sits at the end. His back is turned to him, his hair falling over his face. Steve resists the urge to reach out to him, because he can’t scare him away now. This is the first time in a while Bucky has come to him like this.

“Hey Buck,” Steve says, closing his book and sitting up. “What’s going on?

“I uh---” He starts, finally turning to face Steve. “I wanted to talk because there’s a lot up here,” He gestures to his head. “And it’s getting unbearable.”

“Whatever you need.”

“Yeah.” Bucky says this lightly, as if he’s thinking of what to say next. His eyes move to focus on the floor instead of Steve.

“I don’t think I can ever live up to your expectations, Steve.”

Steve’s chest feels extremely tight now and he sits up a little bit straighter against the headboard.

“I’m still trying to string everything together. I wish I could remember everything we did, but I really can’t and I’m sorry. I wish I could remember what your mom was like or the details of how we met. I only remember these pathetic fragments and I hate it. I feel like I’d rather not remember anything from James at all.” He wipes his eyes. “I think, maybe it’d’ve been easier for you that way. ‘Cause that’s not who I am anymore.”

It feels like days before he finally says, “I’m just Bucky now and---”

“And that’s enough.” Steve finishes for him, channeling all the truth he can muster into it. Because he doesn’t care about what Bucky can remember or not. He’s here, with him and Sam, and that’s enough.

It’d always be enough.

-

The next day, Steve gets up for his morning jog, putting on a plain t-shirt, sweat pants and sneakers. It’s his favorite time to run, because he can clear his head while everyone is just beginning to wake. He quietly slips into the hallway, careful not to make too much noise.

The door to Bucky’s room is wide open, which is extremely unusual. Steve peeks inside to find his bed completely empty, the blanket thrown on the floor.

A bolt of panic travels through his body and he immediately starts searching the house. He couldn’t have left, Bucky would never do that, but Steve is still terrified. The last thing he needs to do is go on another hunt for Bucky and have him taken away. Not again, he thinks. 

Steve walks to Sam’s room and opens the door, ready to wake him up.

Steve doesn’t need to, thank god, because Bucky is sleeping peacefully next to Sam. His arms are wrapped around his torso, with Sam’s hand resting over his. It’s the most comfortable Steve has seen Bucky in a long time and he can’t help but smile. 

He takes in the image of his two best friends before closing the door slowly, trying not to wake them up, then leaves the house for his jog.

-

Back at the house, they were out of Steve’s favorite bagels, so grocery shopping it is.

“So,” He says, trying to hold back a smile as he glances over the shelves. “What’s going on with you and Sam?” He hears a sharp crunch behind him and looks over his shoulder. Steve snapshots the picture of Bucky, wide eyed with a crushed bag of Lays in his hands.

“You’re really buying those now, Buck.” Bucky shakes out of his temporary trance to chuck the bag at Steve’s head, who tilts his head as they fly past him. It lands in the cart with another crunch and he can’t help but laugh. 

“Fuck you, Steve.” Bucky lets out flatly. It's meant to be bitter but Steve’s known him long enough to know it‘s never bitter between them. 

“Well are you gonna answer my question or are you just gonna keep throwing stuff at me?” Steve takes a side step when Bucky throws a package of Oreos at his head, landing perfectly in the cart. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He seems extremely interested in a box of cookies now, looking at the shelves under his dark blue cap. Steve looks down, shaking his head.

“We both know that’s a load of bullshit.” Bucky whistles and looks at him.

“You kiss Stark with that mouth?” 

“Stop avoiding the question or---” Steve pauses and then leans on the cart. He gives Bucky a smug look. “I might just have to ask Sam myself.” 

“Nothing’s going on between us,” Steve turns back and starts pushing the cart forward. “And it’s not a big deal anyway, it’s just--- you know, we’re friends.” Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets and resorts to watching his feet as he walks beside Steve. 

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Steve presses, throwing a box of pasta into the cart. “I can’t even remember the last time you actually liked someone.” 

Sure, Steve remembers all the different types of men and women Bucky would dance around, but he couldn’t remember a time he was ever in a true relationship. One that lasted for longer than a week that is. It was strange to think about, because that’s something you assume everyone has experience in, but Bucky could be as emotional as a rock sometimes, even before the arm. 

“You make me sound like I was the one who couldn’t land a date, when I distinctly remember having to drag you along whenever you didn’t feel like staying at the apartment alone.” Ouch.

“Well I never said you didn’t date, I’m just saying that it’s rare that you actually l-” 

“The L-word is a strong word to throw around before breakfast, Steve.”

Steve stops the cart and squints at him. “You mean... Like?” Bucky looks completely out of his element in this conversation. His cheeks are tinted red as he stares hard at the ground, refusing to meet Steve’s gaze. 

“This is ridiculous.” Bucky grumbles, clearly annoyed. The cart wheels squeak again as they continue shopping, throwing the final groceries in the cart and then later checking out of the store.

After they put the groceries in the car, they buckle up and set off home. Bucky leans his head on the window as Steve focuses on the road. 

“So, are you sure there's nothing going on---”

“Steve, ask me one more time and I’ll rip the steering wheel out of your car again.” Bucky snaps, practically shooting bullets out of his eyes. 

Steve can’t help but let out, “That was Sam’s car actually.” And he sees Bucky’s left arm twitch. 

“I hate you.”

Steve bubbles up with knowing laughter.

-

When they get back, Bucky cooks brunch for Sam, which fills Steve with a strong sense of familiarity. The times where Bucky would come over and cook for him because Steve was a twig with no idea how to cook for his life. 

“You’re too impatient.” Bucky told him once, looking at another one of his kitchen disasters. Then he'd move to help Steve clean it up, because that was who he was. After that, Steve didn’t remember a time where Bucky didn’t cook for the two of them.

Steve enjoys a cup of coffee in the dining room with his bagels, listening to the crackling of bacon and the casual murmur between his two friends. He’s got a small crossword in his hands.

In the light of Bucky’s new crush, it’s put a lot of things into perspective. For instance, the way that Bucky speaks to Sam is always very… soft. Steve can’t think of a better word for it and if Bucky heard him say this out loud he’d probably be dead by noon.

But the point was, that Bucky talks to Sam with no bite, even when they bicker like children. It became very apparent to Steve how hard Bucky had fallen when he started calling Sam ‘sweetheart’. 

It was a natural transition, a small tease here or there. Sam seemed none the wiser, just assuming that he called him such to piss him off. This was half true, because Steve knew the real reasons all too well. Because Bucky starts to remember how Sam likes his coffee, what poptarts are his favorite, and what kind of ice cream he likes to eat. It seemed that as Bucky fell harder, he took his time collecting everything he could about Sam and wrapped his arms around it, tight and secure.

Bucky was still knitting his own memories together, that much Steve knows. Sometimes, when they were talking together, he had to help him fill in those blanks. Bucky didn’t really have the luxury of being able to remember much, but he somehow remembers these things about Sam like they are all he’s ever known.

“Sweetheart, stop stealing from the plate,” He hears Bucky warn Sam from the kitchen. “The rest of the bacon is almost done.”

“You’ve made enough to feed a whole village, Barnes, I think you’ll live.”

Steve smiles to himself, taking a drink from his mug and filling in a five letter word across that means tranquility.

-

A week later, Sam and Bucky get into one of their playful fights again as they’re watching a cooking competition in the living room. Steve’s scribbling in his sketchbook, so he doesn’t mind too much.

“Hey Buck, can you get me some coffee?” He hears Sam ask. Steve erases a mistake on the hand he’s working on.

“Get it yourself, Wilson.”

“But, I really need to know who wins.”

“The kitchen is literally a few feet away.”

“Yeah, but you can’t hear the TV from the kitchen now can you?”

There’s a pause and Steve hears Bucky get up from the recliner and say, “You’re lucky I love you, sweetheart.”

Steve stops drawing. 

He looks up at Bucky, whose face is a bright red and is seemingly frozen in place. Then he looks at Sam, who doesn’t even look at the TV when the winner is announced. His eyes are wide and completely locked on Bucky. Then his lips turn into a bright smile.

“So, you love me huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> i thought outsider pov would be fun to write, so i decided to try it out! i hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading and leave a comment if you would like! 
> 
> check out my [twitter](http://twitter.com/tazisthemaster) and [tumblr](http://xandars.tumblr.com)


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